Secret Gifts

"Art must take reality by surprise." -Francoise Sagan

It caught me completely by surprise. 

A little jolt of pink tucked into my garden. 

Simple lines. Wobbly shapes. 

Someone painted it with love and care, and gave it to me as a secret gift. 

I could not be more delighted. 

Now I want to paint a hundred more rocks quite like this one, and leave them as secret gifts for everyone in the world.

And I may just do that. 

Reading | Three Wishes

Three Wishes | Liane Moriarty

Meet the Kettle sisters, Lyn, Cat, and Gemma. A set of thirty-something triplets from Sydney, Australia, their deliciously intertwined lives are full of exactly the twists and turns that one might imagine multiples to have. And just when the author seems to have one or another of their personalities sorted, whoops! Another layer of secrets is revealed and off the story jaunts in a surprising new direction. Rich with relationships between the sisters, their parents, partners, workmates and children, as well as a number of observant strangers who cross the triplets' paths, this is the first of nine domestic thriller in Moriaty's best-selling body of work. 

* * * * *

“It happens sometimes that you accidentally star in a little public performance of your very own comedy, tragedy, or melodrama.”

Cat and Dan have been together over ten years and they are having a ball. Competitive, clever, full of their own inside jokes, and always up for a lark, they enjoy each other's company immensely and, while their lives aren't perfect, seem to be keen candidates for #marriagegoals. 

Spoiler alert.

Spoiler alert.

Spoiler alert.

And then, one day, Dan cheats. He promptly confesses his sin and swears he'll never do it again, but Cat is so outraged, so bitter, so incapable of letting her anger go, that Dan runs back to his lover's arms and in short order, leaves Cat and never looks back. 

Now, as this ugly little plot line played itself out, I winked at the story and smiled to myself. Liane Moriarty has a long track record of sending her characters into marital maelstroms and eventually pulling them back out again, settling them safely upon strong emotional bedrock and assuring us, dear readers, that a successful marriage need not be perfect but simply determined. Many of her books feature this powerful picture of people who choose to fight for their marriages and I trusted her to deliver once again.

But sadly, she did not.

Now to be fair, Moriarty uses this story line to give Cat a chance to reinvent her life, to have a second go at discovering who she is and what she stands for. Sure enough, the end of the novel sees Cat moving in positive new directions, and I'm very happy for her.

"You are young. A whole life is in front of you. Stop wanting other’s dreams. Start chasing yours."

But I felt utterly inconsolable. 

Why? WHY. Why on earth would I feel so sad about a marriage break up between two fictional characters? 

As I lay awake in bed that night, tossing and turning as I tried to chase the sadness from my heart and answer this question of WHY, I slowly came to understand.

I am all in on marriage. 

Before I was married, I loved the idea of teaming up with another person, heading straight on into the crashing waves of life's challenges with a partner at my side, riding out the storms and enjoying the occasional calm seas together. Now that I'm decades in to my own marriage, my romanticized notions are cold hard fact: 

Marriage is indeed not for sissies. 

You have to want it. You have to work on it. 

And short of adultery, abuse, or addiction, you have to be willing to fight for it, no matter what. 

Now I see that one of the things I've loved about Moriarty's books is that she has championed that fight. She has cheered me on, celebrated my values, and created characters to whom I can connect.

Until Cat and Dan.

“He has mistakes in his past. I have mistakes in mine. The fact that we actually are each other’s mistakes is irrelevant!”

But what finally cleared my head and settled me off to sleep is the simple idea that it's okay. 

It's okay for Cat and Dan's failed marriage to symbolize transformation and rebirth and healthy change. 

It's okay that not every marriage has a happy ending. 

And it's okay for a novel to be just an interesting story rather than a guidebook for my life. 

And maybe, if I need a cheerleader to remind me of the amazing transformative power of an imperfect but determined marriage, it's okay for me to simply cheer myself on. 

* * * * *

Hey! Wanna read more about the books I've read in 2022? Check these out"

Conversations With Friends

Priestdaddy

The Vanishing Half

Untamed

The Paper Palace

Three Wishes

Crying In H Mart

Prodigal Summer

The Pull Of The Moon

Unsheltered and The Bean Trees

* * * * *

For a full list of books I've read in the past few years, click here:

2022

2021

2020

Gracie And The Rabbit

 

That's kinda cruel.

Gracie had frozen in midstep. I came up along behind her but I already knew why. There in the short grasses skirting the woods maybe six feet away sat a rabbit. My dog and I both watched with breathless fascination as he snipped off a blooming wild daisy at the base of its stem, nibbled it up like a little furry buzz saw, and in one final bite, devoured the dainty white petals. Chewing nonstop, our hoppy little friend moved on to the next daisy, and the next and the next. 

That's kinda cruel.

Slowly, slyly, almost imperceptibly, Gracie inched toward the bunny and I followed close behind. Still chomping through the drifts of daisies, the rabbit watched us unconcernedly. He stared at us; we stared at him - for sure, we were on each other's radar. But the bunny sensed no danger. And I knew Gracie had no malice on her mind - her setter's instinct is to simply scout prey and point it out to me. She does not capture or kill. Still, this bunny had nerves of steel because even when Gracie crept to within just two feet, he held his ground, sawing down the daisies and gobbling them up just as quick as you please.

That's kinda cruel.

Finally, the rabbit made a move. In a flash, he pivoted away from us and darted off...but he only ran a few feet before he stopped again, and began mowing down a fresh patch of daisies. As I expected, Gracie gingerly tiptoed after the bunny, slowly closing the gap between them once again like a red furry four-legged ninja. Just to be extra careful, I took hold of Gracie's collar, ready to serve as human ballast in case she decided to make a quick move. 

That's kinda cruel.

This is when I noticed a woman walking toward us. She'd just come from one of the buildings on the high school campus, and certainly must have seen our three-part ballet. I felt a flush of happiness to imagine how beautifully these two creatures had obeyed their instincts and trusted their adversary, and in a funny little way, I felt honored to be a part of their dance. As the woman approached, she spoke to me:

"That's kinda cruel."

Her words tumbled me over like a wave pounding the surf. Cruel? What part of this gentle tableau could she possibly perceive as cruel? Was Gracie cruel for showing such a keen yet entirely self-controlled interest in this furry, flower-gulping beast? Was the rabbit cruel for appearing to run away, but then stopping just a few feet away? Was I cruel for allowing the animals to interact, to experience and trust each other's presence,  to do exactly what each was born to do?

I wish I had asked the woman exactly what she meant. But I didn't. I mumbled a few words about Gracie's nature as a hunting dog, and she climbed into her car and drove away. 

That's kinda cruel.

I stood with Gracie until the rabbit eventually hopped off, and I wondered, over and over again, what on earth this woman had seen that made her imagine something cruel was taking place. I considered all the unspeakably cruel things that are actually happening to people in the world today: 

being shot to death in schools and churches and grocery stores, 

fleeing from Russian missiles and tanks, 

dying agonizing deaths from Covid, 

living in poverty, hunger, and injustice, 

And I suddenly understood that Gracie and the rabbit - like the lion and the lamb - represent not the evidence of cruelty but a perfect picture of peace.